Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(7)

“You have been stupid. Courageously stupid, esclave.”

I nodded, my breathing shallow as Q dropped his head and kissed my lips whisper-softly. I swooned into him, desperate to sling my arms around his neck and press my breasts against his strength. Some basic part of me, the unthinking but all-sensing part, knew I had to break Q completely before he could embrace the softer side of what we could have.

He was afraid.

But afraid of what? Maybe because he’d never had a bond like this before. Maybe he truly believed he was the devil and incapable of true love. But I wouldn’t give up on him.

Q deepened the kiss, and I moaned. Throwing my arms around his neck, I jerked him closer. He grunted, steadying us on the wooden cross behind me. Then his hands captured my wrists and removed them forcibly from around his neck.

“You know you’re stupid, and yet you continue to push me. Would you try to stroke a panther when it’s hunting? Non, parce que la mort te trouverait rapidement.” No, because death would find you swiftly. His words were clipped as bullets.

Images of predators and killing and blood saturated my mind.

Q was born into darkness, created by circumstances he wouldn’t share with me, but if any one of us was damaged, it was him. I wanted him to no longer fear himself. He no longer had to be alone.

With my wrists cuffed in his fingers, I said, “Do you want to know what I thought when I returned to you. The promise I made to myself?”

Q froze, nostrils flaring.

I took his silence as approval and continued, “I said I’d fight for you. That you deserved to be fought for. I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know what I need to finally get through to you—” I leaned forward, trying to get close enough to kiss him. He stiffened and his hold gave no room for movement. “—but I’ll never stop. I was right. You’re worth every fight. Every argument and bump in the road. I’ll fight because I’m falling for you, Q.”

How could I not fall for this man? This complex, emotionally tangled man. The saver of slaves and property tycoon. Q was all my nightmares, fantasies, and needs rolled into one bestial package. He was my drug of choice and I’d been craving him for four long days.

“Don’t fall for me.” He grabbed my shoulders. His touch was hot and his fingertips branded me with force. “I can’t be responsible for that.”

My heart beat too fast as I breathed in his scent of sandalwood and citrus. His body was so close, it befuddled me with lust and toe-curling need.

“Be responsible for what?” I took a risk, ducking my head to kiss him on his forearm. The corded muscle leapt beneath my lips, and he let go as if I’d bitten him.

“I’m sure to break other parts of you, but I don’t want the curse of breaking your heart.”

“You can’t break something that is freely given.” A small part of me wanted him to say he’d treasure it, guard it, and nurture it forever, but that softness wasn’t there yet.

He struggled every day with my demands and expectations. I knew he did. I saw it in his eyes, the way he watched me with a mixture of awe and annoyance, even a touch of fear. One moment he’d answer my seemingly harmless question, the next he’d shut me out as easily as a storm cloud swallows the moon.

Every day I kept prying, kept prodding. Being a pest and a nuisance, waiting for the day when his self-control snapped and tore me into pieces.

“Enough,” Q roared. His chest strained as he pushed me hard against the cross. My back crashed against the eerily warm wood. I flinched as Q pressed his long frame against mine, sandwiching me completely. “Now is not the time to talk about hearts and falling, esclave. Now is the time for pain and f*cking. See how the two don’t mix?”

He pushed off, swiping his face with an angry palm. “I’m tired. Too tired to keep fighting. I want you. I’ve wanted to make you scream for four f*cking long days. I tried to behave. I tried to stop the darkness, but you just wouldn’t let it go. And now it’s my turn. You’re going to give me what I want. Take this obsessive sick need from me and help grant me a reprieve.”

Something black gleamed over the pale green of Q’s eyes. Something I’d only seen flickers of. Something that terrified as much as enthralled me.

“Not another word, or I’ll use the ball gag. I only want moans and my name on your lips when I come deep inside you. Understand?” He breathed hard, and the tip of his cock nudged at the waistband of his boxer-briefs, excessively hard and calling to me like an addiction.

I’d never felt more alive or more frightened.

“I understand, ma?tre,” I whispered.

My voice was the starting gun. Q gritted his teeth, visibly shuddering. All along he’d been searching for my permission—whether he knew it or not. He shed the angry tension and relaxed, transforming into a composed master.

I waited for him to buckle the myriad of straps around me, but he paused.

Waited and watched.

Breathed and deliberated.

Then he lurched forward; his mouth crushed mine. My neck protested from where he’d strangled me and I couldn’t breathe as his tongue darted past the seam of my lips and took. My God, he f*cking took. He demanded and cajoled with every twist of his tongue. Every lick and sweep.

The kiss held fury and promises. His lips spoke how much he already cared for me, all the while trying to eat me alive.